Night 42: Highmore, Rice Pudding
The Late Night Diner is a part of Rhodes Island's canteen. That goes without saying – to whom had anyone ever heard of a diner in the boiler room?
As the name implies, it opens around midnight. There are only a handful of customers at a time.
Operators off their night shift could take an order and bring back to their quarters. Night owls could sit dining-in while leeching off the Diner's wi-fi. The Doctor would come for instant noodles from time to time.
Drinks are in the cooler. Anyone burdened by their own thoughts could take one and chug it down, anytime.
Menu? No such thing exists. What the Chef prepares is what you get. It all depends on his mood of the day.
Welcome to the Rhodes Island Late Night Diner. In here, you might even meet a familiar face or two.
"The company must be on its last legs! Otherwise the Medicals would never take in a Seaborn for treatment. That girl must be a Seaborn, right?! She must be! Just look at her right arm, it's covered in tentacles and scales!"
There were no one else at the bar counter. Nobody would dare to sit beside a proven Seaborn no matter whether her biology leaned closer to human or otherwise. The operators in the Diner chatted in whispered among themselves, and threw glances of worry and fear towards her. Yet the girl was not bothered by them. She twirled the silver spoon in her hand. The cold gleam of the spoon reflected onto her arm. In its light her scales glowed a bright shine.
Neither was the Chef bothered by the climate in his Diner. He was busy preparing the pudding he would serve tonight. The chefs of western nations liked using fowlbeast eggs, gelatine and cystmilk to make pudding. This way their creation would be smooth in texture and aromatic in scent. Yet it would have a much lighter taste – almost like drinking cystmilk directly and lacking the firmness of the solid food. Therefore the Chef did not follow the recipes of Victorian or Columbian origin. Instead, he started a boiling pot of water and poured in a bowl of rice.
The rice chosen was the round rice from Yan. It was good at taking up the water, and would turn soft and slightly sticky when cooked. He stirred the rice in the pot till they gradually soaked up, then added in a litre of cystmilk and slightly turned up the heat. When the fluid inside was brought to a boil and thick bubbles roiled on its surface, the Chef cut up half of a vanilla pod and threw it into the pot. Faint yet refreshing aroma arose from within, spreading far and quickly in the air at the same time neutralising the light stink of the cystmilk. The girl had sat unmoving on her seat. From time to time, she raised her head and looking at the boiling pot. A temperament unfitting of her age naturally came from her. Of course the Chef knew about her – when that night Mizuki came helping out in the Diner again he had mentioned that he wanted the girl to come for dinner. When he told the Chef quietly that "she was a Seaborn too", it surprised him so much that he almost dropped his ladle and let it slip into the wok.
Yet when he thought about it again, he realised that he had already been letting a Seaborn helping out in the kitchen. What harm could be there if he let another come just for a meal?
Pushing the thought behind, the Chef mixed starch water into beaten egg yolks. When they were thoroughly mingled together he turned down the heat of the pot and slowly poured it in. He then started stirring the content of the pot quickly so that it would not turn into a pot of egg-drop soup. The starch and the soaked-through rice made the liquid rapidly thicken. After adding sugar and testing its taste to make sure the it was just right, he sprinkled in a pinch of salt – a little salt would bring out the sweetness of the dish even more. It was something he discovered while making iced sweet drink, and found out it could be used for all kinds of sweet treat, even on chilled water melon slices.
When it was at last ready, the Chef poured the mixture into a container. The rice grains shined like tiny pearls. Then he put it in a water bath and baked it bain-marie style till the surface turned into a perfect brown. The Chef took it out of the oven, and dripped some blueberry jam on it. He put it into a delicate white porcelain bowl and passed it to the girl.
"Donno what you used to eat in the sea." The Chef glanced at the girl's right arm and said. "But you are here now. So try something us landweller would eat and hopefully you can get use to it soon. And...what's your name again?"
"Highmore." The girl replied, and took up her spoon. She scooped up some pudding and sent it into her mouth. The amount of sugar was perfect. The sweetness lingered at the tip of her tongue and only dissipated some long time later, yet not overwhelmingly so and made her uncomfortable. The soft rice in the pudding also made it more chewy compared to its cousins made with traditional recipes. The soaked through grains had retained its original aroma. The pleasant scent made her felt like stepping through a portal and transported to an open rice field golden and heavy with firm grains. In the autumn breeze they bobbed and swayed, like waves of gold upon the ocean.
The pudding was delicious. Highmore quickly emptied the bowl before her. She put the spoon in her mouth again. It still carried the sweetness of the food, along with it the lingering taste of vanilla and blueberry. She had disdained the weakness and ineptitude of human kind, yet she had also refused to fully transform into a Seaborn. Still, on account of the food made by the humans...maybe Mizuki was right. A good meal was indeed enough for her to keep on living as a human being.
"Can I have another, please?" She looked towards the Chef and said. "There should still be some money left in my meal card."
"Sure thing, kid." The Chef answered gladly. "You should try the steamed rice I make next time. Yan rice tastes incredible."